


A Mother's Gift

by howsthismylife



Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A little bit of fluff, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Hale Family is alive and well, M/M, Magic, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howsthismylife/pseuds/howsthismylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski had always known that his mother had died in a car accident when he was only 4 years old.</p><p>Now that he's 18 and graduating highschool, Stiles had been noticing Derek's heavy gaze at him, and his weird action toward him.<br/>Then a handful of witches decided to wreck havoc, on his 18th birthday, in their town demanding to hand over what Claudia Stilinski had apparently given to Stiles.</p><p>Having no clue and fearing for his life he encounters a family of werewolves deep within the woods and offers him protection.</p><p>Now, Stiles life completely turns around and is now face with risk, loss, and possibly love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not beta read.  
> Please be kind to me. :)

Stiles wakes up with a smile. He’s not really a morning person but his wailing alarm clock seems to be a catchy song to him this morning. He switches the alarm off and rubs his eyes. Something about today feels different and Stiles is pretty sure it has something to do with his birthday 3 days from now. Also it’s Friday and to everyone this is one of their favorite days of the week. At least to Stiles it is.

            He gets up and showers. After he gets dressed he goes downstairs for a quick breakfast. His dad is still not home from the double shift he pulled last night. Stiles grabs a mug and pours over some hot coffee. He turns to their fridge and smiles to his mug. “Morning, Mom,” he greets the picture of his mother on the refrigerator’s door. This has been his routine for 14 years now. Ever since his mother died, he and his father never took off their family picture and her picture stuck on their fridge. It seems foolish to everyone but to him it’s not. It’s one of the things that make him remember his mom.

            He grabs some bread and toasts it. He will be fetching Scott later for school because it’s Friday. And every Friday they hang out at either Scott’s place or his and play video games all night. They don’t have many friends anyway, so. It’s the two of them ever since. Always has been.

            After eating his toast and chugging his coffee he drives off to Scott’s and together they go to school.

            “What got you all smiley, dude?” Scott asks.

            “Nothing,” answers Stiles, “It’s Friday so I’m happy.”

            “You got a point,” Scott turns to him and peers at him, “Got anything planned for your birthday?”

            “Nah,” Stiles turns left and shrugs, “I mean, it’s useless throwing a party anyway. Who’ll attend? Your mom?”

            “You could invite Lydia,”

            Stiles looks at Scott and scoffs, “Yeah, like Lydia will go. Heck, she’d probably brush me off like every single time I try to talk to her.”

            Scott frowns and pouts. That is his thinking face. Stiles has been with Scott for too long to know what kind of face his bestfriend is wearing. Then Scott’s eyes brightens and says, “You could invite Allison!”

            Allison Argent. The one Scott has been rattling about to him for days. How perfect Allison is, how gentle she seems, how bright and beautiful her eyes and smile is. Suddenly Stiles sees himself listening to Scott ranting about his fascination with Allison. “I didn’t know you two are close.”

            “We’re getting there. I mean, after I lent her my pen we started talking between breaks and when we have classes together. Dude, you should’ve seen her when. . .” apparently it was the wrong thing to say. He tunes out everything Scott is saying about Allison because at this point he has already memorized it.

 

 

 

***

It appears that Stiles was too happy and giddy for this day that he got detention in Chemistry for laughing so hard to what Scott had whispered to him. He made sure to take extra Aderall today but that doesn’t seem to hold his energy controlled.

            It is lunch and Scott is nowhere to be found. At times, when they have separate classes, they’d meet in the cafeteria but most of the time they wait for each other at either one’s locker before eating. He’s standing in the cafeteria’s entrance searching for his bestfriend’s goofy face.

            Stiles never had many friends growing up. He had always been alone, too hyper and weird for any other kids. He’s talkative, doesn’t have brain to mouth filter which makes him say ridiculous things, and he flails a lot. Scott was the only one who finds his behavior and humor funny . . . and tolerable. Stiles thinks.

            He scans the rest of the room and his eyes lands on Lydia Martin’s table together with her gang of popular kids. He meets eyes with Jackson Whittemore who’s glaring at him, harshly biting the apple on his hand like he would do if Stiles ever comes near to them.

            Stiles averts his eyes and looks over to the Lacrosse team’s usual table. He could sit with them if Scott doesn’t show up. But even if Stiles is a member of the Lacrosse team he would think twice because they always find him as a joke. Always.

            If he acts normal he could sit with the geeky boys over to the left. They’re probably talking about comics and superheroes which is also Stiles’ forte but then he had never really interacted with them.

            He chews on his lower lip and turns to his right. He sees Scott and lifts up his arm to wave but decided against it when he sees Allison laughing beside Scott. Something’s different with Scott’s smile. Far different when they were together having fun. Suddenly, Stiles’ light feeling on his chest drops down like lead on his stomach. _He looks happier._

            “Hey man!” Scott taps Stiles’ shoulders when they are inches from each other. Stiles smiles. “You don’t mind Allison eating with us right?” Stiles nods and greets Allison. She greets him back.

            “Cool.”

            Scott and Allison walk first, toward their usual table, Stiles following behind them. Suddenly his steps feel heavy, refusing to move anymore. He can’t quite name the tight feeling on his chest, never really experienced it before. It may seem silly to others; feeling jealous over some girl. _Jealous._ For years, it has always been Stiles and Scott, partners in crime, bestfriends for life, brothers, and now just watching Allison brush her hand on Scott’s arm as they laugh together makes him feel jealous.

            It’s a wonder how jealousy can instantly drain you while Aderall can’t.

            Sitting across Scott, Stiles goes back to his recent thought, the way he scans faces in the cafeteria, he realizes one thing; he’s all alone. For the first time in years, after his mother died, he feels alone.


	2. Chapter 2

“Don’t you have things to do with Scott?” Stiles’ dad asks, lowering down his newspaper and staring at his son.

            “He’s busy,” Stiles mutters.

            “Huh,” his dad flaps the newspaper and turns it to the next page, “I didn’t know Scott has other things to do aside from you two hogging the TV and playing videogames all day.”

            “Apparently, I didn’t, too,” Stiles glares at the coffee machine, hoping it would produce coffee on its own if he stares at it intently. It’s already 11:00am and Stiles needs coffee to function, so he makes a fresh batch of coffee. He and Scott had already planned the weekend for endless Call of Duty, some WoW, and Mario Cart but Scott had texted him earlier telling him he won’t see him today because “Allison asked me if I could accompany her to the Mall,” and Scott being the dopey puppy love sick that he is agreed and now Stiles feels a little shitty.

            Stiles’ Friday night wasn’t also that great—as far as Stiles’ standard for being great goes. He went home alone because after their lacrosse practice Scott got hooked into talking to Allison and told him “Dude, I’m just gonna go with her tonight. This is my chance!” And Stiles being the great bestfriend that he is nods and smiled at them, even told them to have fun.

            He never received a text that night.

            “Do you have any plans for your birthday?” his dad asks. The coffee is already boiling which is good.

“Nothing, really. It’s just a waste, planning. I got no friends,” Stiles turns to look at his dad and rolls his eyes. His dad’s saggy shoulders and look of pity makes him want to cry. “Besides, I’d rather save money for college. Graduating and all,” he adds just to make the room a bit lighter.

            “You ready for Berkley?”

            “Stoked,” Stiles deadpans.

            “Your mom loved it there.”

            Stiles sighs. His dad always looks calm and peaceful whenever he talks about his wife. They must have been so in love. Stiles wonders how would it feel to have that kind of relationship. “Then I’d definitely love it there, too,” he says and his dad smiles.

***

Sunday is a bit better. Tomorrow is his 18th birthday and he and Scott has been punching buttons for 5 hours straight now. Scott had apologized endlessly until Stiles forgave him for ditching their bro time yesterday. They hugged and ate copious amount of curly fries and pizza. Scott didn’t mention anything Allison related the moment he entered his room which was good.

            “Are you sure you don’t want to do anything tomorrow?” Scott jerks his hands to his left together with his videogame character.

            “Nope. I’d rather stay here and be with my dirty laundries and have a Star Wars marathon,” Stiles looks around and there are, in fact, dirty laundries everywhere. Scott is practically his brother so he didn’t bother cleaning up. “I’d probably order some pizza and drink liters of mountain dew until I pass out.

            “Better,” Scott smiles at him and they laugh. Stiles lack of social life is almost nonexistent it’s funny.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles entered the hallway earlier feeling light. It may have something to do with turning 18. Or maybe because his dad had given him $200 earlier before he went to school. Either way, he felt light and untouchable. Students who knew him greeted him a happy birthday. By a miracle or something, Lydia Martin raised her perfectly plucked eyebrow at him. Stiles liked to think it’s a form of recognition or greeting.

            He is returning some of his books in his locker when his eyes landed on the captain of the baseball team. Derek Hale.

            Now, Stiles, despite his ADHD and flailing tendencies, does not make enemies out of other people. Despite what Scott thinks he does have a sense of self-preservation. So he has no idea as to why Derek Hale, the hot brooding captain of the baseball team, was glaring at him with so intensity Stiles almost feels his legs shake.

            Immediately, Stiles mind gears into work. _Did I do anything wrong? Why is he glaring at me like that? What if he corners me later with his gang of leather clad misfits and beat me up? I just want to go on with my birthday without getting into trouble. Man, those eyes look gorgeous._

 _What._ “What,” Just before Stiles can gear his mind back to normal he sees one of the said leather clad teen— _Isaac was it?—_ tug Derek’s elbow. Derek averts his eyes, his nose flaring like he just inhaled something spicy or disgusting, and turns around.

            “What was that all about?” He mutters.

            “What was what?” Stiles turns around and is greeted by Scott.

            Scott called him earlier this morning and greeted him, enthusiastically, a Happy Birthday. Stiles thanked him and told him to shut up because it was only 6:00 in the morning and it’s too early for that shit. Nonetheless Stiles was genuinely grateful. He went back to sleep with a smile on his face.

            “Do you, by any chance, recall if we did something bad to Derek Hale?” Asks Stiles.

            “Uh, what do you mean?”

            “You know, like accidentally made fun of him or something. I dunno,”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Scott has this confused puppy look on his face which tells Stiles that Scott has really no idea what he was talking about. It’s also safe to say that he did not do anything wrong to Derek Hale to deserve that chilling glare.

            “Nothing. Forget what I said,” Stiles pats Scott’s shoulders and smiles as they walk toward their next class.

***

Lunch came and Stiles sits on their usual table with Allison. He still gets jealous from time to time but he decides to give Allison a chance because he sees his bestfriend happy with her. And also because Stiles doesn’t want to be the reason why Scott would not make a move on Allison. But by the way the two are eyeing each other and smiling goofily at one another, he figures Scott had already made a move on her. No one can resist those puppy dog eyes anyway.

            Allison brought Stiles cupcakes which makes him rant about how he loves cupcakes which made Jackson Whittemore glare at him when he passed by earlier at their table. They chuckle and they eat the remaining cupcakes because Stiles’ dad can’t have any.

            Then he feels this nagging presence on the back of his neck like someone is staring at him. Stiles looks around, chocolate frosting smudge on the corner of his lips, and sees Derek Hale, from their table in the corner, glaring at him, again. It’s amazing how your brain can sense when somebody is watching you. It’s even more amazing for Stiles not to notice the chocolate smudge on the corner of his lips as he tries to smile and wave awkwardly at Derek Hale.

            _Wrong move._ Stiles thinks because Derek immediately averts his eyes from his.

            Derek Hale is a mystery not only to Stiles but to the rest of the student population in BHHS. The only people he hangs out with are: tall black guy Boyd, blonde bombshell Erica, and puppy dog Isaac. Stiles has never seen Derek hang out with other students other than those three. Being captain of the baseball team and all you’d think that he’d make many friends but he always keep things to himself. _Mysterious._ Stiles thinks. _Like his eyes._

            _Dammit._ Now when you’re a guy and you appreciate other guy’s appearance like _that_ it immediately makes you question your sexuality. That’s just how guy’s minds works. It’s geared to appreciate girls more with their eyes to their lips to the curve of their hips; and not thinking about how mysterious a dude’s eyes were.

            “Dude,” he hears Scott calling but he can’t seem to take his eyes away from where Derek is sitting. _He has really broad shoulders._

            “Dude!” Stiles feels something hit him and turns to Scott. He hears Allison giggle and points to his lips. Stiles wipes his lips and sees the chocolate fudge and he thinks how long he had been staring at Derek’s table with chocolate on his mouth.

            “Dude, what’s wrong?”

            “Nothing,” Stiles clears his throat. He is not about to have a gay freak out on his birthday. He definitely is not. By the look on Scott’s face he doesn’t buy it. He will have to explain himself to Scott later about this but right now he’s just going to finish the delicious cupcake Allison brought him.

***

His mother had told Stiles once that he was born at exactly 6:35pm on a Saturday evening. So technically it’s isn’t his birthday yet. It’s only 6:30pm. They are still at school because coach Finstock thought today is a great time to increase their suicide runs. They’re all freshly showered now though. Some of his teammates had even gone home.

            Stiles and Scott is now walking toward Stiles’ jeep. It’s a bit dark now and the only light exposing his jeep is coming from the lamppost to its left. His legs and thighs feels like burning due to the suicides. He texts his dad that he’s on his way home.

            They go inside the jeep and Stiles ignites the engine and started driving off the campus. Stiles looks over to his phone and sees it’s already past 6:35 which means technically it’s his birthday. He looks over at Scott for a second and wishes himself a happy birthday.

            _Another year without mom._

Stiles didn’t get the chance to ponder over his thoughts because they heard a loud bang and by the way his jeeps swerves uncontrollably means that his tires either gave up or they ran over something sharp.

            “Shit,” mutters Stiles, “You okay?” he asks Scott as Stiles finally puts the car on stop safely. He mentally thanks his dad for giving him $200.

            “Dude, what was that?” Scott is gripping tightly over at the door and on his seat.

            “I dunno,” Stiles pops off his seat belt and opens the door. Scott steps out seconds after he did and began to circle the jeep. His left rear tire is completely blown. He crouches down and inspects it.

            “Dude . . .” Stiles didn’t hear the next words that come out of his bestfriends mouth because Stiles felt something burning in his chest and then suddenly everything makes it hard for him to breathe.

            Scott immediately comes to his aide and coaches him to breathe. Stiles hears Scott asks him if he was having a panic attack and Stiles wills himself to shake his head as he gasps for air. The last thing he remembers Scott doing is pulling out his phone, probably calling 911 or his dad, before he hears someone call his name.

            _Gregzhovh._ It comes off as a whisper calling to him. Stiles remembers his mother whispering his real name as she kissed him goodnight. Being a child and all, the way his mother had whispered his name gave a warm feeling in his chest. But after she died his name only gives him bitterness so he decided to go by the nickname—Stiles.

            Stiles coughs and now he can’t feel Scott’s presence beside him. He hears someone whisper his given name again and it brings a sting of pain in his chest. But this is not his mother calling him. His mother is dead. Dead after that horrible car accident.

            He calms himself down. He had experienced worse panic attacks back when he was still coping from his mother’s death so he knows how to control his breathing and calm down in times like this. But Stiles knows this is not an ordinary panic attack, hell he’s not sure if this is a panic attack at all.

            He still tries.

            Stiles takes deep breaths, counting back from 10 to 6 before exhaling from 5 to 1. He repeats this until he feels his surrounding again, until he hears Scott’s worried voice again, until he no longer hears the haunting whisper of his name.

            “Stiles! Dude, are you okay?” Scott rubs his back as he sits on the pavement. Stiles swallows and gulps for air and nods his head. He closes his eyes, putting pressure on his eyeballs and blinking the tears away.

            He feels Scott stand up so Stiles looks up at him. Scott calls for someone, “Help us!” and he looks over to where Scott is looking and he sees a lady—probably around his mother’s age if she were alive. Stiles forces himself to stand up slowly and Scott helps him.

            “What happened?” The lady asks and Stiles can’t help but recognize her voice.

            “My friend just had a panic attack and we had a flat tire,” Scott explains then adds, “I tried calling his dad or 911 but there seem to be no reception.”

            The lady just cocks her head and doesn’t move an inch. Stiles has a great feeling that there is something wrong with everything. He looks around and there are no cars passing by, it’s probably only a couple of minutes until 7:00pm and albeit their town is a small one there is always traffic.

            “We’re okay,” Stiles croaks and clears his throat and Scott looks at him incredulously, “Just had a little panic. It’s all good now.” All he wants to do as of the moment is to get away from the lady. He doesn’t know why but he feels it’s the only thing to do as of the moment. He tightens his grip on Scott’s shoulders and hopes that his bestfriend gets what he wants to say.

            “You don’t look okay,” The lady steps closer to them and the light illuminates her face. She has a scar under her left eye, drawing like a straight line down to the corner of her lips, and her hair is short and brown, “Gregzhovh.”

            Stiles stills and Scott side eyes him. His name had never sounded so foreign to him. This time it is not a whisper, it sounds accusing and menacing, and that feeling of wanting to get out escalates in a click.

            “Suicides, buttercups,” Stiles mutters and he knows Scott hears him because his grip on Stiles’ armpit loosens a bit. Stiles thinks Scott is getting a hint because his eyes becomes serious and his mouth is pressed on a thin line making his uneven jaw even more pronounced.

            Coach Finstock had always called them buttercups—the lacrosse team. Stiles doesn’t know if it’s a word of insult to make better of themselves or that’s just coach Finstock. The first time he and Scott went to practice after they got in the lacrosse team coach Finstock had yelled “Suicides, buttercups!” and they see all the lacrosse varsities begin taking lapses on the field. He remembers coach yelling at both of them for not running.

            Stiles feels Scott’s grip loses it strength and slowly pulls down. Stiles slides his hand slowly at Scott’s back, taps its lightly, and they begin to run.


	4. Chapter 4

The burning of Stiles’ lungs, thighs, and legs tells him that he may have been running for a couple of minutes now. Or maybe it’s still the remnants of the extra suicides they did earlier. It’s already dark and Stiles didn’t think it could get any darker but it did.

            He and Scott had run on separate ways. He cursed as he ducked behind his jeep when the lady waved her hands toward him. Stiles had heard an explosion, too close to him; he looked up and saw his jeep burning from the inside. His mother’s jeep. He took the liberty to stare at the burning insides of his jeep, eyes wide and mouth parted in panic. This made everything even more dangerous.

            Stiles ran to the only direction possible: the woods.

            The direction Scott ran to is toward the police station, where his father is supposed to be. Stiles coughs and heaves, the cold air entering his lungs, he contemplates on taking a break even for just a second but he hears the faint scream of the lady after him. He wonders, because he hasn’t stolen anything. As far as he know. The lady kept on screaming “Give it to me,” at him as she ran from behind him, just a couple of meters away from him.

            Thank God he managed to lose sight of her.

            Stiles runs deeper into the woods. He knows there’s a mansion just ahead—the Hale’s. He decides it’s better and much safer if there would be a lot of people. As he runs, he plays back the recent incident: the way the lady waved her hand causing his jeep to burn and explode, the way the trees somehow blows up when he catches the lady whisper and flails her arms. Stiles came to the conclusion that she is no ordinary lady, and that he is in deep shit.

            “Happy Birthday to me,” he heaves. He sees the outline of the Hale house if he peaks through the trees. Stiles sighs deeply and runs toward it. He no longer hears the footsteps of the lady behind him so he must have lost her somewhere in the woods. He worries about Scott. Then he worries how he forgot Scott in those moments he was running for his life.

            Leaning against a tree, Stiles coughs and sees people outside of the Hale mansion. “Help,” it’s almost a whisper considering the lack of oxygen, but the one of the guys look toward to where he is and then three of them came rushing toward him to help.

            One of the guys who’s arm is around and below Stiles’ armpit calls for someone, “Talia!” he sees a lady whose poise is very leader-like turns toward them, gesturing her hand gently, motioning for them to come over.

            From his left, Stiles could see two teenage girls and a guy run to the other side of the woods.

            “Stiles,” Stiles looks up. Talia’s voice is very soothing and calming like his mom’s, and Stiles suddenly feels safe. He looks over her shoulders and sees Derek frozen on his place, and frowning like he doesn’t know what to do. He almost forgot Derek is a Hale and therefore he lives here.

            “Tell me what happened,” There is something about Talia’s voice that is different and made Stiles tell her everything. From the extra suicides their coach gave them earlier to the crazy lady who came running after him.

            “Derek, get Stiles inside,” Mrs. Hale says in a commanding voice. Derek seems to jerk a bit before looking to the ground and mumbling something.

            Stiles didn’t get to walk a step because he sees the guys who ran into the woods earlier bridal-carrying a bloodied and limp Scott. His face suddenly felt pale, and probably it is, and feels his heart stop.

            “Scott,” it comes out as a whisper at first, and then Stiles shouts, “Scott!”

            He runs toward his bestfriend and to the man carrying him. He’d seen him before, talking to his mom when she was still alive. Stiles shouts Scott’s name. “He’s been hit,” the guy says, not to Stiles but to Talia and Talia tells them to head inside.

            Stiles crouches down and holds Scotts bloody hands when they put Scott down on the couch. Most of the people are still running in the woods and Stiles doesn’t know what’s happening.

            He sobs because there’s nothing he can do. “Call Deaton,” Talia says and people moves.

            “The Vet?” asks Stiles, “Why are you calling the vet?”

            Talia ignores him when the guy who carried Scott says “Talia, Deaton won’t make it in time. Bite him.”

            _Bite him?_ Stiles looks at the guy, confused.

            “Peter,” Talia says, firmly and he sees Peter sigh.

            “Talia,” he sees a man—probably her husband, rest a hand on Talia’s shoulder and Talia sighs.

            Talia looks over at Stiles and says, “We’re going to save him Stiles,” and Stiles can’t do anything but nod.

            “Move over,” Stiles didn’t complain. He moves over and lets Talia replace his position. He sees the slow rising and falling of Scott’s chest and Stiles blinks away the tears. The idea of losing his bestfriend is terrifying. He doesn’t want to feel what he did when his mother passed away. That’s too painful. And Scott is family. He feels Derek stand beside him, their shoulders merely touching and Derek mutters, “She’s gonna bite him.”

            “Bite him?” Stiles must have said it too loudly because everybody in the room stills and looks at him and Derek. Talia looks over at Derek and he sees Derek sag his shoulder and looks at the floor. It’s funny how the brooding and hot captain of the baseball team looks like a scolded kid right now. But now’s not the time to laugh over such detail. “Bite him?” this time he asks Talia.

            “It’s the only way,” Derek’s dad answers, “You want to save your friend right?” He does. He wants to save Scott so bad.

            Stiles pauses for a second and nods tersely. “You have to trust us, Stiles.”

            And Stiles did. He sees Talia flash her eyes red before sinking her elongated teeth into the flesh of Scott’s side. Scott winces, probably too tired to even shout, and Stiles goes to him when Talia backs off. He holds his bestfriends hand, looking over at the gashing wound that Talia had put there, and looks over at the rest of the Hale family.

            “What . . .” Stiles looks over at Mrs. Hale, not really sure what to ask. A lot has happened to him this afternoon.

            “He’s going to be fine now, Stiles,” the worried expression Stiles sees everybody was wearing earlier washes off as Talia orders them to prepare the guest room. “We’ll talk when he wakes up.”

            Stiles swallows and nods, but before he could even say something he sees his dad enter the Hale house with two of the other Hales looking frantic and worn out. His dad strides over to him and hugs him. He hugs Stiles tight like his dad doesn’t want him to let go. And Stiles doesn’t want his dad to let go.

            His dad cups his cheeks, he sees him tearing up and he hates making his dad cry so Stiles forces a smile. His dad hugs him again and Stiles forgets about what happened tonight. He forgets the burning of his lungs and of his body. He forgets his burning jeep. His mother’s jeep. Right now, his bestfriend is okay and not dead. His dad is here and is safe. He is wrapped in his arms and is safe.

            Stiles feels his dad look over at Talia and says, “Thank you,” like there is a much deeper connection present than Stiles had expected. And maybe there is but right now Stiles just wants to rest. He’ll get the answers tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles wakes up and all he wants to do is go back to sleep. He had a nice dream about his mother. In his dream, his mother is laying with him on his bed. He was 4 years old then. She was smiling at him and it made him smile too. His mother’s smile always made him feel warm and safe, like nothing wrong is going to happen.

            Maybe that really happened and it wasn’t just a dream. Nonetheless Stiles’ feels all warm and light when he wakes up.

            He doesn’t actually remember falling asleep, let alone going into someone’s room to sleep. Stiles stares at the mint blue ceiling of the room he’s currently staying in. He turns his head to his left, his pillows smells like grass and of the woods and Stiles remembers that night where he almost lost his bestfriend.

            _Scott almost died._

            “Scott,” he gasps and bolts right up. Stiles groans, feeling a little bit light headed.

            “You’re up,” he hears someone says, although that voice sounded familiar. Stiles looks over to the door and sees Derek Hale standing beside it, arms crossed over his chest. “You need to take it easy. You’ve been sleeping for 3 days.”

 _3 days?_ “Where am I?” He asks, looking around the room he sees posters of rock bands, a calendar with wolves on it, and an organized desk, and a Mac. “In my room,” Derek says and Stiles looks at him wide eyed.

            He clutches the blanket, fidgeting a little bit. _I’m in his room. Holy shit. Why am I only wearing my boxers? OMG did he undress me?_ Apparently he said that out loud because Stiles hears Derek coughs and clears his throat then he says, “I didn’t. . .I didn’t undress you,” Derek looks over at the window with a slight frown on his face, eyebrows scrunched. _He looks uncomfortable._ Stiles thinks.

            “And Scott’s fine by the way,” Derek nods his head toward the door, downstairs. “He’s learning how to control . . . the changes.”

            Thank God, Scott is fine. Although it did raise a lot of questions on how he did. It’s only been 3 days since they got attacked and last time Stiles saw him, Scott was bleeding to death. He remembers Talia telling him they’ll talk when Scott wakes up. Stiles just hopes he gets the explanation he needs.

            “Uh,” Stiles clears his throat. He’s still only in his boxers and his clothes are nowhere to be seen. “Where are my clothes?”

            Derek moves over to his closet and pulls out a gray V-neck, and black sweatpants. He throws it over to Stiles who catches it with both hands, clutching it over to his chest. “You’re clothes are dirty. You’ll have to make do with that,” Derek says.

            _It’s been 3 days and my dad didn’t even thought of bringing me fresh clothes?_ Stiles thinks but didn’t ask. He shifts his eyes from Derek to the bed he’s currently occupying. He swallows and then mutters a weak “Uh.”

            “I’ll just . . . get dressed,” he says. When he noticed Derek didn’t move he sighs. _We’re both guys, dammit._ His heart started beating fast. _I’m just going to get dressed! I’m going to get up, almost naked, put on his sweatpants and his shirt._ Just thinking about being naked in the same room as Derek Hale makes his heart beat even faster. And just thinking of wearing Derek’s clothes makes him feel warm.

            Stiles thinks this is not the time to act all shy and have his gay freak out—although he thinks there is actually no right time for a gay freak out. With his heart pounding, he sighs and flips the blanket off of him. He feels Derek shift so Stiles peaks over at him when he stands up. Derek is looking away. Stiles bites his lips and he sees Derek’s Adam’s apple bob up and down.

            _Why the hell am I acting like a girl?_ He asks himself and sighs again. He quickly puts on Derek’s sweatpants, which is a bit loose on the waist but it doesn’t seem to ride down completely so he’s good. Next, he slides his arms into Derek’s t-shirt, before putting it on.

            Stiles smells the detergent in Derek’s clothes. A hint of grass and wind makes his heart flutter.

            He knew Derek is a big guy but Stiles didn’t know how big the guy was until he tried his clothes. Stiles folds the sleeves up, his pale shoulders almost wholly exposed. He probably looks homeless right now, with his oversized clothes, and his hair is sticking out in all directions. Luckily he feels fresh and not sticky which is odd considering the amount of running he did last Monday.

            “Ready?” He hears Derek asks. Stiles nods and Derek leads him downstairs.

***

When Stiles reaches downstairs he is tackle hugged by his bestfriend. Being friends with Scott for almost all his life, Stiles was pretty much accustomed to hugging Scott. But this hug is kind of different. It’s a bit tighter than usual. In fact, it’s too tight, it’s making Stiles’ arms fold forward, and air is pushed out of his lungs. He tries tapping Scott by the back but his arms are strained from the weight of his bestfriend.

            He coughs and Scott lets go. “Oh, Sorry dude. I’m still not used to this.”

            “Gotta be careful there, Scott,” Stiles sucks some air and looks over the living room. It was Peter, grinning at him in particular. He hears Scott mutter a soft apology.

            Then Talia and her husband come in and ask Stiles to sit.

            “How have you been?” Talia asks.

            “Where’s my dad?”

            “I’ve already called your dad. He says he’ll come by after work.”

            “How have you been, son?” Mr. Hale asks and he grins at him. Like he knows something that Stiles doesn’t.

            “I’m good. Feeling better, I guess,” he says. He does feel better today, lighter even, like Monday night never happened.

            Stiles sees Scott stand behind the couch where Derek’s parents sat. “What happened?” he asks. He does have a lot of question. But at this moment, he thinks it will have to do. He hopes for answers.

            And he did.

            Talia tells him a story. A story about a mythical creature that was aided by the power of the moon. A creature that could shift into a fierce animal, an animal who hunts, an animal who hunts in packs. A wolf.

            A werewolf.

            Stiles listens. He tries to understand the nonsense that was coming out from Mrs. Hale’s mouth. Although Stiles doesn’t really find it all nonsense. Talia explained to him; about werewolves. Their history and their pack.

 

            He finds it all unbelievable and ridiculous. How could something so dangerous exist? But with the way Scott flashed his eyes gold, grinning all wide at him, and by the way all of them—Talia, her husband, Derek and Peter, flashed their eyes at him, he had to believe.

            “You’re all werewolves,” Stiles whispers in awe. He’s not scared. And with his bestfriend being one of them, he’s not going to be. It’s just a lot to take in.

            “We’re werewolves,” Talia confirms, a soft smile playing on her lips.

            “Awesome,” he whispers, again. He hears Scott chuckle.

            “I’m still in training, though,” Scott says and Talia goes on about a deal: that Stiles is not to tell any living soul about their secret.

            “What about my dad?” He can’t lie to his dad.

            “John knows,” There is something about how Talia mentions his dad’s name. Something that tells him that the Hales and his family has a lot of history together.

            “You have to promise us, Sitles,” Talia holds his hand in hers, looking straight to his eyes. Stiles nods and Talia pats the back of his hands and smiles.

            “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 is being written.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I'd appreciate kudos and comments. Let me know what you think.  
> Motivate me to continue this. hah.  
> Send me hate, I love reading them.


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